


Attention-Seeking Behaviour

by nostalgia



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Banter, Evil Plans, Gen, UNIT-era, slashy gen maybe?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:58:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1495738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgia/pseuds/nostalgia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master has an evil plan, the Doctor tries to stop him. Just the usual, then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Attention-Seeking Behaviour

_Diddidy-dum, diddidy-dum_

The drums, the never-ending drums. They just never stopped. The Master put down the blueprints for his latest evil plan, unable to work with that _noise_. He went to the window and opened it.

_Diddidy-dum, diddidy-dum_

“Doctor!” he shouted, “What in the blazes do you think you're doing?”

The Doctor looked up and waved cheerily at him. 

_Diddidy-dum, diddidy-dum_

“And _what_ is that racket?”

The Doctor abruptly switched off Bessie's anachronistic CD-player. “Quite a catchy tune, don't you think?” he called up to him.

The Master rolled his eyes and closed the window again. _Idiot_ , he thought to himself. He waited for the Doctor to break into the house, climb the stairs, find the hidden laboratory. He was a little disappointed by how long it took.

The Doctor entered the room without knocking. “Hello,” he said, casually. 

“How nice of you to join me,” said the Master, aiming for suave and trying not to show how unsettling it was that the Doctor had found his... well, one didn't want to call it a _lair_ , but...

The Doctor tapped his own forehead. “Sorry it took me so long, the Time Lords for some reason thought it best if I couldn't sense my own kind. Probably so they could spy on me.”

“How boring that must be,” said the Master, “watching some dreary hippy stuck on a backwards planet in the middle of nowhere.”

“It's not that backwards,” said the Doctor, ignoring the rest of the jibe. “they'll be growing ears on a mouse's back before you know it.”

“How very civilised,” said the Master, who oddly enough had never approved of animal experimentation. Certainly not on mice which were, he felt, rather cute. And this was exactly the sort of train of thought that should _not_ be revealed to the Doctor of all people. The Master had an image to preserve, after all. He straightened the cuffs of his suit and looked at the other Time Lord with barely-concealed contempt.

“Obviously I'm here to stop whatever you're up to,” said the Doctor as though he didn't find this all much more interesting than whatever he did when the Master wasn't around. 

“I'm planning to bring about world peace and universal happiness,” said the Master, holding up his blueprints. 

“Bollocks,” said the Doctor succinctly.

The Master smiled. “I could have had a change of hearts. Perhaps your inspiring example has led me to embrace a friendlier and sunnier persona.”

“Yes,” said the Doctor, sarcastically, “and Jo's run off to join the circus with Sergeant Benton.”

“Has she indeed? I hope she doesn't fall off a trapeze and break her neck.”

“What are you up to?” the Doctor demanded. He glanced at the paper in the Master's hands. “Isn't that the Tower of London?” He sighed. “Are you going to steal the Crown Jewels?”

“Nothing you need concern yourself with.”

The Doctor pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. “Master,” he said, “I find it rather suspicious that you spend so much time on Earth, a planet you claim to despise. Is it because I'm here?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” said the Master. 

“You could be on the other side of the universe playing dictator without anyone to stop you, and yet here you are loitering on Earth getting yourself into trouble on a seemingly-weekly basis. It's rather odd, don't you think?”

The Master glared at the Doctor. “Don't flatter yourself.”

“In fact,” the Doctor went on, “you spend most of your time in twentieth-century England.”

“Time is relative,” said the Master automatically. 

“If I didn't know better I'd say you were desperate for my attention,” said the Doctor with a triumphant smile. 

The Master didn't want to dignify that with a response, but the alternative was a guilt-implying awkward silence. “I have a wife in every country,” he lied.

The Doctor shot him a sceptical look. 

“Well,” he said, “I could have. It's not as if you travel.” He raised his eyebrows in mock-surprise. “Why, Doctor, it's almost as if you want to stay close to _me_.”

“Of course I do,” said the Doctor, “I have to stop you destroying the world by accident.”

“Oh, it would hardly be an accident, I assure you.”

“Let me see,” said the Doctor, counting on his fingers, “Autons, Axons, Aquatic Earth Reptiles, Actual Satan... yes, you never need my help to stop someone else blowing the place up.”

“You're insane,” said the Master, trying to be dismissive. He wasn't, in any way, wondering about his own motives now that the Doctor had pointed out the obvious. 

“And you're a vicious thug with no sense of -”

“If the next word in that sentence is 'humanity,'” said the Master, “I really am going to have to kill you on the spot.”

The Doctor shrugged. “It's as good a word as any.”

“Humanity,” said the Master. “Yes, I must admit I'm growing rather fond of them. War, torture, murder, hatred... they really are quite innovative in some ways. Hating someone because of the colour of their skin,” he whistled appreciatively, “that's something even I would never have come up with.”

“They get better,” said the Doctor defensively. “It's just like you to find the cloud attached to the silver lining and make it into a storm.”

“Nuclear weapons,”said the Master, “nerve gas. _The neutron bomb_.”

“Amnesty International and the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament.”

“McCarthy-ism.”

“The NHS,” replied the Doctor, rather desperately.

The Master smiled and shook his head. “The glass may be half-full, Doctor, but you'll find it's filled with poison.”

“I don't have to listen to this,” said the Doctor. “Just tell me what you're up to so that I can stop you and get back to UNIT HQ in time for tea.”

“Did you know,” said the Master, “that the Sovereign's Orb is actually an egg?”

“Don't be absurd,” said the Doctor, looking only a bit disconcerted.

“Its mother has been looking for it for quite some time,” he went on, relishing the advantage. “I am merely helping to reunite a scattered family.”

“All right,” said the Doctor, “ _what_ sort of egg is it?”

“I'm not going to ruin all the fun you'll have finding out. You and the unfortunate citizens of the city of London.” He waved his hands at the Doctor. “It's all set in motion, you'd best be off.”

“If you kill one more person -” the Doctor threatened.

“I'm sure you'll find it in your hearts to forgive me. It seems you always do.” He smiled. “I can't imagine why.”

The Doctor glared at him for a long moment. Then he said, “Next time” and turned to leave the room.

The Master watched him go and smiled to himself. There'd be a next time, oh yes. There would always be a next time.


End file.
